


Gunpoint

by Crownonymous



Series: Whumptober 2019 [5]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Blood, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Gun Violence, Murder, Whumptober 2019, its that one scene after the casino, technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-17 04:02:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21260135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crownonymous/pseuds/Crownonymous
Summary: "You sold me out."
Series: Whumptober 2019 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1522484
Kudos: 18





	Gunpoint

**Author's Note:**

> Day 5 of Whumptober 2019. First posted onto my tumblr, crossposting onto AO3

The barrel of the gun was blessedly cool against his face.

Against the black eye and split lip, against the swollen cheek and the broken nose, against the pulsing bruises on his face, the metral brought with it a cold relief. The interrogation room he was kept in was hot and humid, the air stained with the breath and the ire of the men who beat him bloody. The gun was a welcome frigidity. Really, the only thing colder than the metal pressed flush against Akira’s forehead was the man about to kill him. His eyes were like glaciers.

The drugs pumped into Akira’s system were wearing off, slowly but surely. His memory was returning. Bits and pieces of the past slotting into place.

The man before him with the cold eyes was Ace Detective Goro Akechi, a highschool student one year his senior, Crow. Akira knew him as Goro. A young man who liked his pancakes cooked with milk mixed in the batter, a funny and charismatic individual struggling to find his place in the world who found solace in an out-of-the-way coffee shop. A comrade. A friend.

Memories of the Casino heist came to him in fits and starts. Recalling them for the prosecutor who interrogated him was hard enough and it was a struggle to accurately grasp the fragments sliding around in his head, snippets of memories that were faded and fuzzy and distorted in places. His head was full of cotton. Static. But Akira remembered.

He remembered reaching the Treasure room, fighting Sae Nijima’s shadow, playing a game rigged in her favour. Akechi was there. Akechi helped them win. Then. The Treasure. Stolen? Yes. No. Fuck. Treasure. Briefcase. Took the briefcase and became a distraction. Split off from the rest of the group. Jumped out a window. Glass raining down on him. Lights. Yelling. Police. Fuck. The barrel of the gun dug even deeper, pulling Akira back to sobriety. That’s right. They stole a fake Treasure and Akechi

Akechi.

The traitor. Why? “You sold me out,” Akira rasped throatily. It was meant to be an accusation, an attempt to glean the truth from the man he once called friend. But. Why did his voice sound so horrendous? His throat felt as though it was run over. Akira ghosted a hand to feel his neck. Akechi’s eyes were hawk-like. Oh. His throat was tender, bruised. Right, one of the guards had stepped on his throat during interrogation. Still. Somehow, knowing that Akechi betrayed him hurt worse than the bruise on his throat, than the black eye, than the broken ribs. “Why did you do it, Goro?”

Akechi’s lip curled up in contempt. Disgust. Akira’s chest ached. “You were a fool to think I was ever on your side.” Akechi ground the gun against Akira’s skin. It stung. That’s right. Akechi was never his comrade to begin with. Akechi planned to sell him out from the very beginning. Akira was nothing more than a pawn in the grand game Akechi planned on playing alone.

The interrogation, cramped and desolate as it was, though it used to be akin to the burning sands in Futaba’s palace, now turned gelid. The gun against his head now burned hot. Burning with the seething rage of its wielder. Akechi glared down at him with fury, with hatred, and it hurt.

Akira winced, puling at his split lip when Akechi shoved the gun against him so hard that Akira’s back smacked the chair. Another bruise to add to the already extensive list. Akechi leaned closer, practically draped over the table. Akira could see his eyes. How dilated they were. He could see his own reflection gazing back at him.

“This is where your justice ends.”

The gunshot was deafening.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to know what I'm writing next click over [HERE](https://crownonymous.tumblr.com/sched)  
If you want to stay updated on the progress I've made on my fics click [HERE](https://crownonymous.tumblr.com/tagged/crownonynews)  
And if you want to come say hi or just get bombarded with random posts, you can find me over [HERE](https://landofsaltandshade.tumblr.com/)  



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